


Reading Lessons

by Hawkeye733



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Past Relationship(s), There's 3 years wait, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3502661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkeye733/pseuds/Hawkeye733
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a difficult road for Fenris and Hawke when he starts learning to read. With the lives they lead, there always seems to be some obstacle in the way</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Attempt

**Author's Note:**

> I hope i'm not the only one who just likes the idea of these two trying to coordinate. Hawke and plans don't usually go together
> 
> Posting 3 chapters in one go because this is what i've already put on Tumblr

Fenris had accepted Hawke’s offer to teach him to read hesitantly, not without some internal struggle to allow him to put aside his pride when he cornered her one day and privately, quietly asked for her help. They had started out with the best intentions, deciding on a particular evening when they would be able to meet, in either of their houses where they would get some peace and quiet to begin. And that was where their plans fell apart.

The first night they planned to meet up was doomed from the start. A runner arrived at Hawke’s mansion in the morning with a message from the Lowtown infirmary. Apparently the last few deliveries hadn’t come through and they were desperately short of supplies, therefore they turned to the Champion for help. Hawke had picked up Fenris and Aveline first, then headed to the docks to listen for any news from the incoming ships.

Anders had had his hands full with the sudden influx of patients desperately seeking help and so they had found Varric instead, passing through Lowtown to fill in the details with the volunteers at the infirmary.

As events around Hawke were prone to do, things spiralled rapidly and within a couple of hours, the group trekked out to the Wounded Coast, heading to a recently wrecked ship and were momentarily besieged by raiders trying to spring yet another successful trap on unwary travellers. The fight turned bloody but with a kind of teamwork coordinated only through years of practice, the Champion and her friends had removed the threat.

Another hour followed with Hawke and Varric going through the shipwreck and trying to piece together the most critical supplies still remaining in their crates and what they would be able to carry in one trip. Meanwhile Aveline and Fenris scouted out a suitable cave near the water front where the remaining supplies would be stashed until a boat or cart could be sent along to fetch them.

After their efforts for the day, Hawke and Fenris bade farewell to Aveline as they climbed the steps leading to Hightown. The sun was still just lighting the sky a dusky pink from beyond the horizon, a glow illuminating the buildings around them with that dreamlike evening quality, a sharp contrast to the bloodstains spattering their clothing as they faced each other outside Hawke’s front door. It highlighted the weary droop of aching shoulders that had hauled crates for a couple of miles along a coastal pathway.

“I think I’d-“

“If you still want-“

Hawke laughed as they talked over each other but the smile didn’t linger on Fenris’ face. “Tonight, isn’t going to work.” He turned away, wanting only to get home and clean but he had to pause before he started to walk. Looking over his shoulder, he quietly murmured, “Thanks for the effort, Hawke.” Then he walked quickly away towards the sanctuary of his own home, before Hawke could summon up a reply.

But she had come after him anyway, laid a hand on his shoulder until he stopped, looked down, looked back.

“We’re not busy- four days from now, right?” She said, making it sound like a question although her hand held him in place, a gently determined gesture that left no option for him to back down.

“Four days.” He agreed and that was all.


	2. Enchantment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get a little closer to sitting down but some distractions are a little closer to home

The next time, Fenris stood outside her door. The day was free of all other commitments, he had made sure of this. Yet he stood in the dark alcove of the front step, tensed and staring at the door handle, without reaching out to let himself in.

Was this a mistake? He had managed just fine for this long without learning to read, so why go to all the effort now? Was he really going to gain anything from it? His worth didn’t come from the ability to read the latest tale from Varric, partly because in that instance he was more likely to have lived the story first-hand and, on top of that, he could hear it straight from the author’s mouth, with much more spirited embellishments intended to captivate an audience. Though that was not the point. Fenris was good at what he did, he was fast and fierce, a ghost on the field of battle; he could leap on a man from five paces away and easily cleave the head from his shoulders. Now that, Hawke could use.

Any information he found relevant was already stored in his memory, it had certainly helped them out in more than one situation before.

So why would she bother with him over this? After what he’d done to her.

He stared at the door handle and took a deep breath. As much as he wanted to turn around and walk away, he had agreed to this and even asked Hawke for help after she offered it. Still the door provided a solid obstruction. He didn’t want to let what had happened to him control his life, the brutal but honest truth Hawke had given to him that night, still so recent that the memory stung. So recent, Fenris couldn’t fathom why Hawke would be willing to take up her time helping him, yet she was still treating him as her friend, still welcoming him into her home.

He stiffened, drawing his shoulders up and fixing a resolute glare on the door in front of him. Hawke was offering this gesture of kindness, therefore he was going to learn because this was something for himself, something he wanted and was going to work for, pride be damned. With that thought, he turned the door handle and walked into the entry hall.

A face peered around the corner – Bodahn looking to see who the new arrival was. His face immediately cleared when he recognised Fenris and his voice boomed over the intervening space between them. “Good evening, Messere. I didn’t know we were expecting you but the mistress is in her library.”

Fenris scowled at the title, he had told the dwarf more than once to just call him by name. Rather than bothering to repeat himself once again, aware that he would likely be more caustic than the dwarf deserved, Fenris strode across the main hall to the opposite door.

He pushed it open and peered inside the room. Hawke was sat with her back to the wall, a selection of books strewn around her, a pen in hand and several sheets of paper with notes scrawled upon them. Only when Fenris stepped further into the room and closed the door behind himself did she look up, and then she grinned at him from her position on the floor.

“See,” She gestured to the chaos around herself. “I’ve been making plans.” She looked triumphant and something in Fenris jolted at the scene, seeing the effort she had made.

That made it easier for him to return her smile and if his was somewhat more strained, she didn’t comment. “It’s a pity you won’t plan other areas of your life.” He said pointedly, watching her climb up from the floor. She paused to shoot him a suspicious glance before laughing as she dusted off her robes.

“If you’re referring to that incident with the spiders yesterday, notice that we came out of it completely unscathed.”

“Only because the mage happens to specialise in healing.” Fenris replied but he didn’t quite summon his usual bite when commenting on their handy abomination. It led to Hawke playfully swatting him with the pen as she walked past him towards the table. She placed a sheet of paper down and the pen on top of it before turning back to Fenris, who at once again felt a cold weight settle in his stomach. Facing the challenge ahead of him was suddenly daunting once more but he slowly made himself follow her over to the vacant chair.

He wasn’t even fully seated when the explosive crack echoed through the room, dust shaking loose from the ceiling and drifting slowly to the floor even as Fenris leapt back to his feet, hands curling into fists only to find his usual clawed gauntlets weren’t there. Of course he hadn’t put them on, thinking he was simply spending the evening across Hightown. Stupid, how very stupid of him. He headed for the door nevertheless only to find it wrenched open ahead of him.

Orana stood there, her frightened expression somehow startling even more when she came face to face with a bristling Fenris on the offense. Recovering remarkably well, she looked past him to see Hawke, then started speaking quickly.

“I’m very sorry to disturb you both, Mistress. It’s just that… there’s been an accident.” She was looking down at the ground, wringing her hands.

Fenris had been standing watching her and didn’t realise Hawke had moved so close until she huffed a long suffering sigh directly over his shoulder.

“What’s he done now?” She asked wearily.

“It’s not so bad, Messere. It’s just- a bench exploded. Again.” Orana was cautiously looking up at Hawke now, Fenris could see her trying to gauge the Mistress’ reaction. He hated seeing it. However, when Hawke laughed, waving a hand as if brushing the issue aside, Orana smiled slightly in return, relaxation that immediately gladdened Fenris. The serving girl clearly didn’t believe Hawke would be cruel, even if she was ready for it, had learnt she had to be.

While he pondered on the change he had seen in the girl already over the past few weeks since she had joined the household, Hawke had moved past him, already on her way to the source of the acrid powder smell. He nodded to Orana, acknowledging her duty of reporting the latest mishap to Hawke, and then he too stepped hurriedly from the room.

He found Hawke out in the entry hall, the smell of singing assaulting his nose as he turned the corner and saw a mangled heap of what apparently used to be one of the ornate, mostly decorative, pews against the wall. Fenris hadn’t known wood could even twist and warp that way, the lingering reek of magic leaving him cringing, mostly internally. Bodahn stood next to Hawke, trying to explain in his usual jovial tone with one arm around Sandal, who stood looking both pleased and jolted.

“It’s certainly impressive, Sandal.” Hawke was saying, her surprisingly large capacity for patience with the man something Fenris utterly failed to comprehend. “What were you aiming for exactly?”

“I don't think aiming is really his biggest...well, aim," Bodahn tried to say.

"Kaboom! No fire.” Sandal replied slowly, still staring transfixed at the remains of the bench. Fenris felt his skin crawling as the boy idly swung his arms at his sides, the potential to cause unknowable damage just a…a something away. He wasn’t even sure what the boy did, only that the power in him was apparently entirely unchecked.

“Well if you actually managed that, I’ll want to see it. And it’s a step up from putting out another flaming rug.” She was smiling at him and Fenris couldn’t understand her ease. This simple fool was wielding dangerous magic in her house, some kind of magic he shouldn’t have and was clearly not in control of. He found himself looking beyond the small group gathered in the entrance to the main door. It was looking tempting.

“Hawke, I will not keep you, there are other things to concern yourself with.”

“Not a worry. We’ll be sorted in moments. Plenty of practice.” The grin that was just growing on her face fell when she saw the dark look on his own. Then he was moving, perhaps with a little more speed than dignity, towards the other side of the room.

“No, you should deal with-” He waved a hand at the tangle in the corner, “I cannot take up your time.” He was holding the handle of the door and, without looking back, found himself on the other side of it once more. The fresh air brushed away the keen tingling of magic he sensed clinging onto him and he walked briskly to the first archway in the square, leaning against the shadowed wall and breathing in deeply, fists clenched at his sides.

A small part of him he didn’t fully want to acknowledge breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t due to his escape from the sharp crackle of enchantment. Instead, he had once again postponed his humiliation.


	3. It's A Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They may manage to sit down and make a start but Fenris doesn't really need a distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is what i've posted so far on Tumblr. I'm afraid you'll have to wait for the next part

“Maker, can’t I do anything right?”

“I didn’t come here to be treated like a child.”

“Well you could stop acting like one and see how we go from there.”

“This book has pictures, Hawke.”

“It’s a book of fairytales, Fenris. It’s the easiest place to start because - guess what?  _Everyone_ has to start somewhere!”

“I knew this was a waste of time.” Fenris growled at her and pushed the book on the table away from him.

“You haven’t even tried yet.” She snapped back, just as frustrated as he was. She had set out the desk ahead of time, probably quite some time ago. Events had unfolded that had rather overshadowed the apparent need to teach Fenris to read. A one on one duel to the death with the Arishok to end a violent invasion was one thing. Losing her mother barely days before that left a whole other set of wounds for Hawke to bear. After some months of recovery, she had finally recovered completely from that limp and had been looking for other things to focus on. Fenris had almost – quite deliberately - forgotten about the whole reading ordeal.

That was until Hawke had followed him from the tavern one night and casually brought up the subject of him coming over some night soon. He had attempted to reply noncommittally, hoping to avoid it but she had insisted, mentioning it when they next met on a Tal-Vashoth hunt, again as she visited his mansion with a gift of food to replenish his woefully stocked kitchens, once more as they met in the marketplace.

It was possible his unwillingness to comply now was, in his mind, a form of payback for her own bull-headed pestering of him until he finally gave in and told her when to expect him.

So now he was sat in the chair, twisted so that he could more effectively glare at her as she met his gaze with every bit as much obstinacy. Eventually he looked away, concentrating on the desk of implements in front of him.

“Then what would you have me  _try_?”

“First step, the alphabet.” Hawke stepped forward then, reaching for a pen and pulling a leaf of paper towards herself. She then began drawing letters. He frowned down as her pen swooped across the page, easily creating those confounded things and at the same time still continuing to talk. “I’m not here to patronise you, Fenris. You tell me if I’m doing that, telling you what you already know and I’ll move on. Easy as that.”

She lifted her pen when she had written a line of neatly spaced letters and gave him a look, inviting him to comment on the task. He stared at the markings on the page, then dropped his eyes to his own lap.

Anger was so much easier than this.

“It means nothing to me, Hawke.”

“Then here’s where we begin. The letters. This one here is a. Then b and c.” Her voice was steady, she put it simply and business like and it almost helped Fenris forget the infantile nature of the task. He quietly repeated the noises as she pointed them out, mouthing out the sounds more than he actually voiced them as they worked along the line of letters. She didn’t push him for more and he was grateful.

“j… and k. So, if you try writing them down, it might help to memorise them.” She lifted up the pen she had been using and gestured towards the other laying in front of Fenris.

And he had no idea how to even hold it.

Still he tried. It was a useless, fiddly little thing and his thumb just couldn’t feel right sitting that way that Hawke was showing him. A sword he knew, he could trust it to fit in his hand and give him what he wanted. A pen was…alien.

A thing for crafting, creating, when he knew best how to cut down and break. He made the first letter, a, he thought as he tried to copy Hawke’s smooth curve with his own unresponsive hands. How had she made this look so simple?

He dropped the pen with an aggravated grunt, aborting his crude attempt. It was wrong, it didn’t work and he was tired.

“Fenris!” Hawke protested as he pushed the chair back.

“Hawke, I appreciate your efforts but you are not required to fix me.”

She stuttered for a moment as he rose to his feet, but she swiftly mimicked the action, “I’m not trying to fix you! I thought you wanted to learn.”

“Did you? After you damn near dragged me into your house with your incessant pestering.”

“Oh, that’s right, I’m a terrible person for trying to help.”

“You can stop trying.”

She let out an unladylike noise of frustration, “You know, your stubbornness would be put to much better use if you decided you were going to give it a try instead of that you were going to give up.”

She had hit a nerve. “I’m not giving up! And I have been trying. I’m deciding not to waste my time - and yours - on pointless frivolities.” He was backing away from her again and this time she stayed where she was, letting him go. He pretended he couldn’t see the disappointment in her face.

“Then you’ve made up your mind.” The defeat in her voice left him feeling hollow, this was certainly no victory. He glanced at the desk behind her, the pile of books she had picked out and the papers she had planned on using. But he stood up straighter, deliberately meeting her eyes.

“I think it’s better for both of us.” She looked at him as though she had been struck. He didn’t mean that, not exactly, but he knew he wanted to be out of there, before he kept saying things that left her with that expression. He had hurt her enough for one lifetime already.

He turned and had reached the doorway when her voice carried over to him.

“It’s your choice, but know that  _I’m_ not giving up.” He looked over his shoulder to see her standing defiantly, meeting his eyes with a challenge.

He left, like a coward.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As with everything else, Fenris has to do things his own way. And Hawke really already knew that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It amuses me that this chapter was entirely unplanned but Fenris made me do it. He's stubborn that way ;)

He insisted to himself from then on that there was never any point to any of it. There was no need to change himself when he had proven again and again his worth in a fight, in an argument, even his ability in a game of Wicked Grace. He knew what he was good at and that was enough to be content with.

Despite this, the things she _had_ managed to show him kept rising, unbidden, to his mind. In fact it was hard to shake so easily when all of a sudden he began to recognise those letters, seeing them repeated on signs around town that previously he had simply ignored.

Part of him wanted to forget he had ever tried, a failure he didn’t care to dwell on. However, there was one night a couple of weeks after their last unsuccessful lesson, as he strolled to meet the others at their usual haunt, when his attention was caught by the board hung above the door clattering in the breeze.

Hawke had drawn that letter. The ornate print was slightly different to her own handwriting but it was recognisable and he recalled the sound she had made to his memory.

“h.” Quietly intoning it under his breath, he looked at the next. That was easy. That had been the first of Hawke’s examples so he quickly followed it with the appropriate sound, “a”.

And then he shook his head at himself, a flicker of amusement at his own foolishness made him smile because he knew what it said. The sign would surely spell the tavern’s name.

A small smile of wonder crept across his face as he looked up at the sign. He wasn’t reading it, per se, but for the first time in his memory he looked at a word and knew what it meant. In fact, as he studied it, he realised he recognised almost every letter in that word, and as he registered the simplicity of the next word, he quickly deciphered the sounds for ‘m’ and ‘n’ for himself as well.

A noise behind him drew his attention then and he spun from his reverie to see Sebastian rounding the corner, arriving in time for their usual night of cards and drinking. He stepped up beside Fenris, obviously assuming that the elf had only just arrived before him, then did a sudden double take at the expression on Fenris’s face.

“Has something happened I should know about?” Sebastian asked.

“Such as?”

“I don’t know—you just seem less angry than usual, my friend. It looks good on you.”

Fenris smiled lightly at the other man’s wry tone and shook his head, leading them both through the door of the bar. “I was merely considering some changes.”

“Well, I hope they work well for you, you deserve some fortune in your life.” Sebastian patted him on the shoulder as he headed towards the stairs, while Fenris turned towards the bar to get a drink before joining him in Varric’s suite.

He waited to catch Corff’s attention and as the man searched for a wine glass, Fenris looked at the chalkboard. Even as he picked out the letters he recognised - once again in a different handwriting - he mused on the Chantry brother’s words.

He climbed the stairs to the back and decided that no, Sebastian wasn’t correct, Fenris didn’t deserve anything - but he could allow himself to earn it. And that was what he planned to do. Hawke had called him ‘stubborn’ and he knew deep down that it was true.

In the following weeks he found himself looking at the shelves of books in his mansion. On the spines he picked out letters he recognised, found which words he could decipher and from those even managed to learn the sounds for a few new letters.

He found a pen and learnt how to hold it correctly, practised on the desk in his room until gripping the damnable thing didn’t feel quite so awkward. If there were a few occasions when he yelled out in frustration, sweeping the sheets of paper with their unsatisfactory scribbles onto the floor with one hand, he was gratified that there was no one there to see it. He began to copy out letters, picking books at random and steadily, painstakingly scribing out their first sentence until he almost felt like the words should make sense to him.

He reached that point when he felt equal parts frustrated and curious to continue studying. He could use the pen, he could even recognise a couple of words on sight. But he only knew a handful of letters. While he wasn’t planning on admitting it to her, Hawke had been right. He had turned his determination to making something happen and even he had to admit, progress had been made. Now he knew what his next step was and who he needed to ask for help.

Standing at Hawke’s front door was familiar, the nagging doubts lingering in his head before he could go in. He testily pushed them aside. He had made up his mind.

He could do this. More importantly, he knew he _wanted_ to do this.

He knocked and pushed the door open, greeting Bodahn with a small nod and receiving a warm smile in return. Somehow even that simple gesture relaxed him slightly - Hawke went out of her way to let him know he was always welcome here in her house.

Bodahn directed him to the library where he found Hawke, curled in the armchair by the fire with her head buried in a book. She only looked up when he moved to block the firelight and a shadow fell across her.

“Fenris? Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” He watched as she carefully lay a scrap of paper in her page and placed the book down the side of the chair, allowing her to turn her full attention to him. “Was there something you needed?”

He quirked a lip at her choice of phrasing and replied, “Actually, it’s more something I’d like.” She raised her eyebrow queryingly. “I—,” He looked at the book beside her, it’s presence taunting him into steeling his resolve, “I would like you to help me read. Though I feel I must first ask forgiveness for my shameful behaviour the last time you offered.” His voice almost quavered on him but he held it steady, his short speech delivered entirely to the floor in front of his feet.

He finally looked up at Hawke uncertainly, only to find she was smiling at him, an honest, open grin that knocked the breath from him. Now was not the time, she was already talking “Of course I’ll help! And I should be the one apologising to you.” He frowned at her sharply then, confused. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. I was honestly afraid I’d put you off. I made you feel like you had to do it for me and that was really not the plan, I was just—”.

 “No Hawke, you were excellent. I was just too—” He spoke quickly to cut her off and then wasn’t sure what words he honestly meant to say, “—proud to accept your help.”

“And I should have known to let you have your own space, work it out in your own time.” She had something in her tone that meant Fenris suspected she was really saying something else, but the next minute she continued on and whatever had been clouding her face was gone. “I was perhaps a little over eager.” She grinned at him, “Which wasn’t the best way to uphold your dignity, I guess.”

“I should learn better where to keep it,” He said, smiling slightly in vague embarrassment. She remained so bright, while admitting a possibly too accurate knowledge of himself, that it helped him relax. Here was the same old Hawke he knew, always quick with a smile and this wasn’t at all the awkward, embarrassing scene he had half envisioned for this conversation.

“I think we can say mistakes were made all around. Probably from the moment you involved me.” She remarked and he snorted, not contradicting her.

“I might suggest we make a fresh start?”

“An excellent idea.”

“Do you have paper?” He asked but when he moved over to the desk his eyes caught on the same sheet from last time, almost 6 months ago, where it was pushed to the corner and only just appearing from under a sheaf of papers bound together with twine.

Fenris took the corner of the sheet with Hawke’s elegant line of writing across it and sat down, taking a pen in hand and nimbly copying out the first 11 letters she had drawn for him. As he did so, she got up from her chair and moved to his elbow, uncharacteristically silent.

When he finished the k, he laid the pen down and looked up at her face, feeling a certain twist of joy in his stomach at the thunderstruck expression he saw there.

“I’m ready for my next lesson.” He said in a light tone.

“You taught yourself this? Fenris, that’s—that’s incredible!” She continued to stare down at the paper then turned her wide eyes to Fenris, now beginning to feel quite smug with himself, admiring the confounded expression he had left her with. He just nodded. “I mean you—you memorised that from the whole 5 minutes you spent looking at it?”

“I got the sounds as well, I think.” He admitted and, prompted by her eyebrows raising even higher in astonished wonder, he recited what he had learnt. There was only one mistake but after Hawke pointed it out and explained the fact that ‘c’ was commonly pronounced ‘s’ in a lot of words, his accomplishment didn’t seem far diminished.

“I wish I had your memory.” Her only comment left a sense of something he hadn’t known he would find much of in his life: pride.

Maybe doing something for himself wasn’t such a terrible thing after all.


	5. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris has made some mistakes he deeply regrets, and spending this much time with Hawke is not good for his mental state

A knock on the door, a greeting from Bodahn who pointed him towards the study where he would find Hawke reading, writing a letter or going through her mail. It was becoming a routine Fenris knew well and every time the apprehension he felt became easier to ignore, began to feel more like enthusiasm.

Thoughts of shame at his incompetence were being whittled away, mostly by Hawke being so unashamedly vocal in her admiration and praise of how fast he was picking everything up. He might have neglected to tell her of the times spent practicing on his own, testing himself in the marketplace by spelling out a word, trying to work out what it said without help.

As he pushed open the door to the library that night he found Hawke stood by the bookshelves, skimming a long finger along the spines of the books, head tilted at what he assumed was an uncomfortable angle to read the titles. He smiled to himself at the posture, the fact she didn’t realise she was being observed meant she didn’t try to hold herself any particular way. He gave himself another moment before quietly coughing.

Instead of standing up straight, presenting herself as the noble lady the rest of the city believed her to be, Hawke rolled her head over her shoulder, still twisted at the waist.

“You’re early!” It didn’t sound like much of an accusation, though she turned fully towards him and crossed her arms in front over her body. He smirked, her apparent good mood infecting him.

“If you prefer, I could wait in the entry hall until you’re done abusing your spine. I might find a decent conversation with your hound.”

“A compliment to my skills as a trainer, I’m sure.”

“Was I interrupting something?”

“Only my alone time.”

“I’d rather not know.” He said jokingly, then looked down, feeling the tips of his ears start to warm. Luckily Hawke laughed and he looked up to see her walking towards him, swaying her hips ludicrously. Oh, he wished she wouldn’t do that.

“Have you perhaps been spending a little too much time with dear Isabela?” She turned sharply towards the writing desk. He struggled to keep his gaze from her hips, still playfully swinging as she walked away from him. Venhedis, now was not the time for these thoughts.

“Was there a plan for the evening?” He hoped to change the subject abruptly and thankfully she was already turning back to face him, a book in her hands.

“Today, I thought you could start some sentences.” He heard her faint sigh as he quickly looked down, as if she was expecting the cold wash of doubt that hit him, telling him that this next step would surely be the one where his tenuously growing confidence would fall. He looked up at her face again only through the force of his will and was taken aback by the understanding smile she gave him. “You’re doing so well, I need to keep up the challenge somehow.”

Fenris pursed his mouth at her, seeing how she was trying to goad him into it. He silently walked over to join her at the desk and immediately noticed that the selection of two or three books had grown since his last visit. “I thought you should pick what to read. I—didn’t want to make you do something where you felt uncomfortable.”

He looked at the books laid out on the table but quickly knew which one he wanted. He reached past her, to the corner of the desk she was most in the way of, and selected the tome half hidden beneath another. The same book that had prompted him to leave the first time they had tried this.

“I was wrong to take out my frustrations at myself on you. I trust you Hawke.” He waited until she took her eyes from the book in his hands and looked at him. “You thought this was the right book for a beginner, so this is where I shall begin.”

She still looked hesitant but he cleared a space on the desk and sat down. She paused only a moment before drawing the second stool over to join him without a word.

Page one, the title, “The Loss—lost d—dog.” A Ferelden book, then.

He began shakily but with a little help from Hawke, he came to the end of the first sentence. Then he made it through the next one. Hawke put her elbow on the desk next to the book and rested her head there, leaning so that she could still follow where he was up to. His attention was drawn away from the book. Her content smile seemed to show she was happy but the energy of earlier seemed more subdued. He silently looked back to the next sentence.

“Achanai,” She supplied after his glaring at the page led to a lengthier pause than before, “It’s her name.”

“How delightfully awkward.” He intoned sardonically and her answering grin was bright. He drank it in selfishly.

“Hush you. It’s pretty.”

“She couldn’t have been named something simple?”

“That’s not usually why names are chosen, no. Come on, don’t get distracted.” She put on a charmingly poor impression of severity and flicked her hand at the page. He just looked at her, unimpressed and she snorted. “In your own time then.”

He continued trying to make out the next sentence, almost managing it completely without help, the success giving him a warm flush of accomplishment. Then he heard Hawke take a long, deep breath, his gaze arrested by the way it drew up her body then she blinked her eyes leisurely. He knew he shouldn’t be watching but he was intoxicated in the way she drew him to her, memories flickering through his mind of a night in the firelight that seemed so far away now. Darting his tongue over his lips nervously, he drew back from his hunched position over the book, away from her.

“My apologies if this is keeping you from something else.”

“What?” She turned wide eyes to him, brow creased slightly in confusion. “No, this is good.” She sat up as she spoke so her eyes were level with his own.

“You seem distracted.” He commented slowly.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, Fenris. You should know that. No, it’s –something on my mind.”

“Hawke—” It wasn’t his place to pry details from her, so he spoke her name with no expectations, simply a reassurance that she could take it however she needed. What he didn’t expect was the soft look that entered her eyes while they still held his own, then looked down at the book in front of them.

“My father read this to me.”

“I didn’t…would you prefer if I read a different one?” He didn’t expect that, either.

“No. No, I thought it would work best. It’s a story for reading out loud.”

“I’m afraid I’m not getting very far through it.”

“You’re doing perfectly.” He didn’t know what to do with this tender memory she was sharing with him, nor how to look into her earnest eyes when he saw something deep within them, something he felt was too private to give to him. So he turned back to the words on the page, scanning agitatedly to find that damn name, then impulsively let out a huff of frustration. The last word had been ‘woods’. He looked for the word beginning with w—.

She shuffled closer and pointed to the page. “You were here.” Her soft tone caused him to glance across at her, then he barely caught himself from jerking backwards when he found her face barely a handspan from his own. She leant over his shoulder, and his eyes were uncooperatively drawn down to her mouth where he saw her kind, friendly smile.

Friendly, nothing more. That bridge had been burned many months ago. Whatever he might feel, he knew he had crushed his chances at anything more.

He turned back to the page, her arm coming under his own to leave a finger marking the place. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her body at his shoulder, where her arm lingered by his own and the way her hair had a gentle flowery fragrance – Orana had been experimenting with a new soap. And yet here she was, right here and completely beyond his reach.

He concentrated on staring at the page, hearing instead the fevered rush of blood in his ears.

“Fenris?”

_Come on_ , he knew this word. “The…gih- giruhl- girl…” He finally made the shapes focus into words and kept going but she didn’t pull away immediately. She drew her arm back slightly, moving it out the way so he could actually see the rest of the page, but she only went as far as the edge, resting her hand alongside his wrist.

He was looking at the book and making sense of the next word but her finger moved in the corner of his vision, uncurling freely from her loosely held fist. She traced the edge of the paper and continued moving down to lay it gently against the red scarf, still tied around his wrist. She was barely touching it, he couldn’t feel her through the material but it still seemed as though everything in his body was fixated on that point, more than the lyrium thrumming in his skin.

He strained to look at her out of the corner of his eye and she appeared to still be looking at the book. When he made it more obvious, turning his head, her eyes raised up, curiosity on her face more likely to be over why he’d stopped than the question of the token. He couldn’t tell if she was even aware of what she was doing and he turned back to the book with a thinly concealed sigh.

It was a few moments before she moved, tickling her finger over the bright fabric once more. He glanced at her again, her eyes were on the token, then she lifted her head to his face and his heart pounded once more in his chest. Her eyes challenged him as she ran her finger over it so that he could feel it this time, holding his gaze, then she tapped his wrist over the fabric and he looked down at the offending finger. He huffed out a laugh when he saw she was pointing it again at the page, inviting him to continue.

He frequently felt like he would never understand what was going on in her head. After all, he was the fool who had rejected her and since then they had had to keep each other at arm’s length, or so he thought. Yet here she was, reaching out to him and for once, he allowed himself to hope. Perhaps it was a sign of her forgiveness.

Perhaps she was not quite so far from him as he had thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in two sittings in two very different moods, which made editing it interesting. However i hope i fixed it up nicely for you


	6. Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time has passed, Hawke and Fenris have finally overcome their mistakes and found each other again. But what does this mean for their progress in tutoring?

He couldn’t arrive at Hawke’s door, couldn’t be directed through the rooms of her house, when he hadn’t actually left. He had been in her house since the previous evening and had remained through the night, as well as the night before that. In fact he hadn’t spent much time at all in his own mansion the past few days.

And so he was caught off guard when Hawke appeared as a shadow over the page of the book he was reading, blocking the light in front of the armchair so he raised his eyes to look at her.

“I don’t trust that smile.” He said immediately, which of course only prompted her to smile wider.

“Do you know what day it is?” He looked at her hard for a moment, puzzled.

“10 Drakonis. Is that important?”

“It’s the 10th day of the month!” He looked at her blankly, until the significance she was clearly trying to imply came to him slowly. Some time ago they had settled on a routine that he came to her to continue with his lessons on the 10th of the month if circumstances allowed and if they had found no other free time that month. But now he sat with a book in hand, contentedly reading without assistance.

“Hawke, I hardly think that’s necessary.” He lifted his eyebrows and then gestured to the book in his lap.

“Fenris.” She mocked, and then with a heavy thud she landed on the arm of his seat, his elbow only just pulled back in time to clear the space. “It’s tradition, I need to see how you’re getting on.”

“I’m getting on fine. I haven’t needed lessons for the last 6 months.” He sighed at her and she waggled her brows at him.

“But you kept coming. Every 10th day of the month.”

“I thought you might realise earlier that I rather had other reasons for that.” He smirked up at her and she hummed a low laugh, leaning closer to him, her eyes fixed on his lips. He instinctively lifted his chin to meet her. Her nose brushed his and his lips parted.

“You just wanted Orana’s sweet pastries, I know. She’s the best cook in this city.” Hawke pulled away from him at the last moment, in one movement snaking the book from his lap and spinning out of his reach. He frowned without moving from his seat.

“Come on, I’ll see what she’s made and we can sit somewhere I’ll be comfortable too.” Still scowling at her far too smug grin, he saw she wasn’t going to give in. He pushed up from the single armchair and repositioned himself on the longer sofa, further from the fire.

“Better? Now may I have my book back?”

In the end he didn’t recover the book it until she had procured a plate of delicacies from the kitchen and settled herself against his side, one arm looped through his and a head on his shoulder.

“So what are we reading?”

“The Book of Shartan. If you recall, it's how this whole debacle started.” He said flatly and she grinned.

“Oh I don’t know if I would call it that. I’d say some good has come of it.” She turned quickly and pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw. For a moment she was able to see the flat frown on his face waver but he refused to look at her. “So, read to me about Shartan?” She asked, and with a sideways glance, he complied.

It was easier to read out loud, simply because he knew the words when spoken and he found saying them often made it easier to comprehend the meaning of a sentence.

What made it more difficult was the fact Hawke had nestled her head under his chin, her hand brought up to rest on his own, allegedly to help hold the book.

He made it halfway down the page – without needing any help – when her hand began stroking idly up his arm, tracing imaginary patterns across his skin. He ignored her.

He turned the page and her head turned into his neck, her nose brushing into contact with his skin there. He felt the long contented sigh as it rolled through her whole body. With that, he found it became much more difficult to concentrate on what the words meant and he faltered in the reading.

Hawke noticed. He felt her lips curve upwards, a smile against his throat, and then it was warm, wet, her lips parted to press more than that into him. He stifled back a low moan.

“Hawke.”

“Your voice feels almost as wonderful as it sounds.”

“It seems you are doing the exact opposite of helping me to read.”

“I think you’ll find I’m actually testing your focus, your ability to work under duress.”

“You certainly are.”

“So keep reading,” She breathed into his throat and he swallowed reflexively as she laid another kiss directly on his Adam’s apple.

He turned his focus back to the page, but couldn’t make it stay there for long.

Hawke had moved from the centre of his throat to the spot just below his jaw, moving her lips across it in a measured, unbearably teasing way.

“I can’t read with you doing that.” He said and he felt her smirk again.

“Are you giving in?”

“Hardly. What I mean is that I can’t move my jaw with you  _on it_.” He managed to growl.

“My apologies,” She failed to sound at all apologetic, “Let me take this elsewhere.”

She twisted slightly in her seat and rested her head lightly on his shoulder, this time nowhere near his bare skin. He flicked his gaze down to her and saw her looking at him, an innocent expression on her face. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and looked back to the book.

He managed three words. Then, as if drawn by a magnet to his skin, she darted forwards, and her lips found the side of his neck. She drew her tongue over it and, with a small noise in her throat, began to suck gently, not enough to leave a mark. Or at least not a vivid one.

The word he had been trying to say, ‘challenge’, was choked off midway and the book nearly slipped from his grasp as, at the same time as she focused her lips on his throat, her hand crept up his chest and drew deliberately back down, nails dragging at the material of his jerkin.

“Hawke…” His voice was dragged from him in the same way, suddenly rough, almost a plea. Still, his head fell back, only leaving him more exposed to her ministrations. She gripped the front of his jerkin and pulled herself impossibly closer against him. Her lips brushed his throat, moving up to his jaw and then his cheekbone, and she whispered, no more than a breath.

“Perhaps there _are_  other ways we can spend our free time.”

Then her teeth casually began to torment the long, lower edge of his pointed ear and a growl rumbled in his chest - through her fingers - as he pulled back, finally turning his head to capture her treacherous lips with his own.

His teeth took her bottom lip in rebuke for her distractions before taking her lips fully under his own control. She willingly gave way. He brought his hand up to quell hers, now tangling quite insistently in the front of his shirt. As he moved his hand however, he hadn’t thought about its previous occupation and the book slipped completely from his lap, falling with a dull thud to the floor.

Opening his eyes at the book escaping his grasp, he made a movement towards it, hampered by Hawke’s arm across him pushing him back down.

“I found it in a sack in the Alienage, Fenris. I think it can cope with my floor for the moment.” Her hand was suddenly at his chin, using one finger to turn him back to face her.

The book was immediately forgotten in the next moment, as she lifted her leg over his lap instead, as soon as the space was made available. She smiled that indomitable smile he can’t get enough of and her eyes met his own with something he could still scarcely believe was really for him. But she leaned down and found his lips again, before he could even form a reply in his mind.

The toggles down the front of his jerkin were apparently unacceptably preventing her the access she wanted, and he thought of little else but her dextrous hands undoing the ties, her tongue licking along his own, inviting him, and her body straddling his legs, warm and close and everything he could think to want in that moment.

No, the reading lessons did not go exactly according to plan.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an extra fun fact, the last line was the first thing i wrote and basically the plan for the whole fic.  
> I hope you enjoyed reading!


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